


you still will rise in fugitive bloom

by blackkat



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [132]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Established Relationship, Fix-It, M/M, in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: The thin, cold blade of a sword touches his throat, and Shūhei pulls up short.“I think,” Kisuke says lightly, “that if you're having nefarious thoughts, young man, you might want to think again.”





	you still will rise in fugitive bloom

 “He’ll believe us,” Shūhei says, and he feels half-mad with desperation but Kazeshini is a solid weight at his side, comforting regardless of his history with the zanpakutō.

 _He’d better_ , Kazeshini tells him, and red-black reiatsu flicker around the blade like a threat. Motes of it swirl out, condense, and the spirit forms, red-edged shadow and a sharp grin as he leaps ahead. Shūhei falls back, slows, lets Kazeshini scout, and tries to imagine how he’d do this if he and his zanpakutō were still at odds, hadn’t suffered Muramasa’s attack and seen the faultlines between them that it revealed.

He wouldn’t even have made it back at all if that was the case.

“Clear,” Kazeshini tells him, then dissolves again, fading into sparks and sliding back into the katana. Shūhei touches the tsuba in thanks, then keeps moving, staying close to the walls as he traces a long path around the perimeter of the Twelfth Division. There's a door that Akon showed him, a back entrance that not even many Twelfth members know about, and it’s ideal for slipping into the division without being seen. Shūhei can't risk being spotted, because with his scars and tattoos he stands out enough that people will remember him. That’s the very _last_ thing he wants; there's no saying how many ears and eyes Aizen has at this point, a hundred years before he’ll make his first move, but Shūhei is sure the answer is _too many_.

The door is unlocked, unguarded, and Shūhei slips through it without pause, runs, quick and silent, with one hand on his sword and a binding kidō on the tip of his tongue. There's no one else visible, though, no sign of life in the halls as he makes for the main labs. Better that way, he tells himself, but it’s eerie; the divisions are never supposed to be this empty.

“He’ll believe us,” Shūhei breathes, slowing as the lab door comes into view. He braces himself, feels Kazeshini’s eager hum in his head, and pushes into the lab without pausing.

There's a startled yelp, a jerk. A figure in a captain’s haori bolts upright, spinning to face Shūhei, and wide eyes lock on him as he stalks closer. One hand reaches for the cane beside him, then pauses, taking in the shihakusho Shūhei is still wearing, the lack of sleeves that are usual in the Ninth Division, the tattoo on his cheek. The wariness doesn’t quite disappear, but Kisuke covers it with a smile, a sheepish laugh.

“Oh, you startled me!” he says cheerfully. “Can I help you, young man?”

Shūhei bows to him, carefully formal. “Captain,” he says, then turns on heel to face the door. Raises a hand, and murmurs the incantation for a barrier kidō, then flings it out, letting it impact the door and spread up across the ceiling until the whole room is encased. Nothing will get in, and no sound will get out. He lets out a breath of satisfaction, the itch of imagined eyes on the back of his neck finally abating, and turns back to Kisuke—

The thin, cold blade of a sword touches his throat, and Shūhei pulls up short.

“I think,” Kisuke says lightly, “that if you're having nefarious thoughts, young man, you might want to think again.”

Carefully, slowly, Shūhei raises his hands, palms towards him so Kisuke can see they're empty. “The barrier isn't to keep you in,” he says evenly. “It’s to keep other people out. my name is Hisagi Shūhei, and I'm not your enemy, I swear.”

There's a pause, and then the blade slowly slides away, tracing down his shoulder to graze the small of his back. “That’s an interesting explanation,” Kisuke says. “Would you care to explain?”

Shūhei hesitates, but Kazeshini hisses at his pause and he winces. “You’ve been watching Aizen,” he says. “I know what he’s planning, and I need your help to stop him.”

He catches the sound of an indrawn breath, the way Benihime lifts away for just a moment. Then the blade comes back, braced at his spine, and Kisuke says, full of false cheer, “You’ll excuse me if I don’t believe you right this instant, of course.”

Shūhei knew he wouldn’t, doesn’t care as long as Kisuke believes him eventually. “I'm from the future,” he says, and Kazeshini curls like a death-wind through his thoughts. “I came back to warn you specifically about Aizen and what he’s going to do.”

Another pause, longer than the first, and Kisuke breathes out. “There's no proving that,” he says quietly.

“Your bankai is Guanyin Biraki Benihime Atarame,” Shūhei says, doesn’t let himself waver as he steps forward, turns to face Kisuke squarely. “Aizen is creating his own version of your Hōgyoku. And in one week, he’s going to use it on eight captains and lieutenants if you don’t help me stop him.”

He can see the moment the words strike home, the way Kisuke swallows. Younger than the man Shūhei relied on to send him back, more tentative, less assured. But his eyes are the same, careful and calculating and already ten steps ahead of Shisui as he stares at him.

“The reports,” he says. “Of a disturbance in the Rukongai.”

“One of Aizen’s labs,” Shūhei confirms. “He’s releasing Hollows he’s altered with his Hōgyoku, and watching them terrorize the civilians.” Easy enough to remember the sheer terror of that moment, the way he felt with that Hollow looming over him and the relief when Kensei saved him. This is returning the favor, even if Kensei will never actually know.

“Bait,” Kisuke says thoughtfully, and taps his finger against Benihime's blade. “For the captains and lieutenants, I assume.” He looks Shūhei over again, close and careful, and then asks, “Captain Hirako is among those he’s targeting?”

Shūhei inclines his head. “With Captain Hirako out of the way, he takes over the Fifth Division,” he says, “with Ichimaru as his lieutenant. Captain Muguruma is—” It’s still hard to say, even now, but Shūhei swallows and gets out, “Captain Muguruma is replaced by Tousen Kaname, another of Aizen’s followers.”

“I hadn’t told anyone about my suspicions regarding Tousen,” Kisuke says softly, and sweeps another look over Shūhei’s face. He takes a breath, then very slowly lets his zanpakutō dip. “Well,” he says, and it’s forcibly light. “I suppose you know where my birthmark is, too, don’t you?”

Shūhei flushes instantly, heat sweeping past his ears and suffusing his face in a rush. “I—I—I do but I'm not going to _say it_!” he protests, waving his hands to ward Kisuke off. “You—don’t _ask me that_!”

Kisuke laughs, brilliant and startled, and takes two steps after Shūhei. “You _do_ know,” he says with wicked delight. “Oh _my_ , Shūhei, really? Should I worry about my virtue in his future you come from? Do you make a habit of sweeping in like a dashing hero to seduce unsuspecting captains?”

Shūhei is going to faint. He buries his face in his hands, groaning, and Kisuke hooks an arm over his shoulder, still giggling.

“I have to find a way to thank myself in the future,” he says cheerfully. “I sent myself a cute lover who’s already be wooed! How thoughtful.”

“There was no _wooing_!” Shūhei protests, but he doesn’t try to peel Kisuke off of him. Extended exposure has taught him that the attempt is futile. “You just—it was the _situation_ —”

“Does that mean I still have to do the wooing?” Kisuke asks thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t _mind_ , honestly.”

“Get _off_ ,” Shūhei mutters, because his face is _burning_. “We have to stop Aizen before anything else, all right?”

“Right,” Kisuke says, and pushes off of Shūhei’s shoulders. “Wooing after. I think I have a plan.”

Shūhei almost wants to laugh. Of course Kisuke does. He wants to sag back into the man’s hold, lean into him like he hasn’t been able to in _months_ , but—

There's no time, and this isn't the Kisuke that Shūhei is missing.

“He won't be expecting me,” he says. “Or my bankai. If you can set it up that no one will interrupt us, I can kill him.”

Kisuke smiles, small and sharp and full of some emotion that Shūhei can't identify, but which burns as bright as fire. “I can do that,” he says.


End file.
